


The College AU nobody asked for and that is somehow not really college specific, except that it gets mentioned because I project a lot

by LokianaWinchester



Series: Jesus Christ Superstar [30]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: AND inscure Jesus, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Lovers, Love/Hate, M/M, and also Jesus being That Bitch, and also soft Jesus, and insecure Judas, and pretentious Jesus, just .... I'm . so weak for bitter Judas, so yeah. this one got it all. I hope lol, this is so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-27 20:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16709590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: College AU in which Judas does Not Like Jesus..........Or does he..





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO! I decided to make this a separate fic, because Hecc. This is gonna get a third chapter. and it deserves a better place than a stuffy one shot collection
> 
> also.. You might gather from the title that I have stopped giving any fucks, because in this fandom people either read my shit or they don't and there's nobody I need to impress......

Judas had seen him around.

When he had first seen Jesus, there was a lot going on in his head. The first thing was _wow_. The man was stunning. His dark hair and beard stood in contrast to his fair skin and from that face of sharp lines, intense eyes were looking out into the world. Judas had felt a pull towards him, but he did not follow it. Jesus was surrounded by friends. Probably more friends than Judas had had in his entire life. Judas could not just approach somebody who clearly did not need any more attention and company.

So he went his way, but he kept running across Jesus and not a day seemed to pass when Judas did not think of him.

When they had their first class together, Judas learned to appreciate the little things in life, because Jesus was not only intelligent, but also a completely arrogant jerk.

Judas’ misplaced attraction amplified the dislike he was starting to feel for Jesus in that class.

In the following time, there was nothing Jesus did, that convinced Judas to like him any more and by the end of the semester, his dislike had morphed into a seething hate.

He hated the beautiful smile, the caring softness in his eyes, the way he carried himself. Because it was all fake, it was all a show. Judas despised the charity events Jesus advertised in class, he hated the so called friends, that seemed to adore Jesus as if he was some kind of god to them. In summary; Judas could not recall a person he had ever felt more negatively about.

He sat down heavily on the bench in the restaurant. His friend was late and Judas really did not want to be here, but his love for the few friends he had, far surpassed any dislike of being out in the cold at night. Annoyed, Judas looked at his phone. No new messages. Just an email from the career service of the University. He swiped the notification away and set the phone on the table before him.

He grabbed the menu and tried to decide on a drink.

Somebody sat down across from him.

“Hey,” Judas said, not looking up.

“Oh.” Judas closed his eyes. Adrenaline was rushing through him and he hoped to all gods above and beyond that he was not blushing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Judas looked at him. Perfect face, perfect smile. The politeness in his voice, however, was just as fake and as Judas looked at Jesus’ eyes, he saw that the smile did not reach them.

Judas just wanted to answer, to ask how the fuck Jesus had not seen him, when a waitress came up to the table.

“Have you decided on a drink yet?” she asked. Judas was really not in the mood for any single thing about this situation, but he was not going to be rude to staff. He would not sink that low.

“I’ll have a Lager, please.” She smiled, nodded and turned to Jesus, who was somehow, incredibly still there.

“A large red, please. The House wine.”

“Very well,” the waitress said and turned to leave.

Judas looked around. There was no other free table, so he could not even ask Jesus to move to another table. And most of the other people here seemed to be dating; they were smiling, laughing, holding hands, kissing.

Judas frowned and looked over at Jesus. The latter had his eyes trained on Judas.

He did not like it, not one bit. The only thing that could save him now, was when his friend would finally show up; he had let Judas wait long enough as it was. He went to check his phone.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

_I can’t come, Judas. So sorry. Promised my ma I’d be over weeks ago._

“Everything alright?” Jesus asked, and Judas became acutely aware, that he was not alone. In fact, he was in the worst possible situation.

“Perfectly,” Judas replied coldly.

Jesus’ expression was unreadable, neutral, but Judas could see him thinking.

“Here you are,” the waitress said, setting their drinks down in front of them.

“Have you decided on what to eat?”

Judas shook his head.

“We have a Valentines Day special for couples. Any large meal double and a shared heart-shaped cake for dessert. For the price of just the meals,” she said. Her customer service voice was beyond perfect, Judas noticed.

“We’ll take it,” Jesus said.

“Wait, wh -“ Judas wanted to object, but Jesus cut him off.

“Isn’t that right, darling?”

Judas swallowed and clenched his hand into a fist under the table.

He nodded.

All he wanted, was to leave. He did not want to spend time with Jesus, much less pretending to be his date for whatever reason, but the glance Jesus shot him, heavy from something Judas could not quite put his finger on, kept him quiet and seated.

Once their food arrived, they started to talk. The conversation was awkward at first, but Jesus’ voice was pleasant when he was not exclusively saying obnoxious things, and his eyes retained some of the warm glint they had started to gleam with earlier.

Jesus’ motions and mannerisms, his smiles, jokes and laughter, the gentle flick of his hair and bowing of his head at Judas’ questions, were absolutely captivating. Judas detested feeling like this, but over the course of the evening Jesus turned out to be the perfect person Judas had refused to believe he was. Sure, he still had some arrogant views of the world and he seemed to think he was far superior to others in alarmingly many subjects but there were two flip sides.

The first one was, that Judas was starting to suspect that Jesus was not faking any of it. Maybe he was really that smart, that educated, that insightful.

The second thing was, that Judas really wanted to slam Jesus into a wall and kiss him senseless. Just for once, he wanted to see him out of his element, vulnerable, unsure of how to proceed. Judas wanted to see the imperfections too.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or maybe the glint of Jesus’ teeth as he was biting his lips and grinning at Judas, but he could not shake the thought of pinning Jesus against a wall and showing him who really had the upper hand.

By the time their dessert arrived, Judas was at his third drink - his second Mojito - and Jesus accordingly at his third glass of House Red.

They shared the dessert in silence, only glances darting back and forth between them. When Jesus offered to pay the bill, Judas protested.

“No. We’ll split it.”

The next thing he knew, was Jesus’ hand covering his, thumb rubbing circles into his skin and Judas was speechless for a moment, just long enough for Jesus to settle the bill.

He pulled his hand back and got out his wallet.

“I said I’d pay,” Jesus said.

“And I said we’ll split. You’re going to take this money.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” Jesus was getting up, putting on his coat. Judas followed suit.

“I don’t want to owe you anything,” Judas hissed and pushed the money at Jesus.

To Judas’ surprise he actually took the money and put it into his pocket. Then he looked up at Judas, pupils blown wide, a smirk on his lips, as he licked them. It was obscene.

Judas turned and left the restaurant.

The cold air outside hit him like a wall. He took a deep breath and let his head fall back, but footsteps behind him, reminded him that he was not alone.

Judas walked off. The street was deserted, nobody wanted to be out in the cold anyway. Jesus followed him, caught up to him, walked by his side. And for just a moment, Judas let himself imagine what it would be like to get rid of the hate and see Jesus. Really see him.

He had come closer to that tonight, than he had ever before and he did not detest it half as much as he was used to. In fact, Jesus was surprisingly gentle and empathetic.

It was terrible, because Judas was so set on his view of Jesus, that any slight change of it would completely topple this image of him.

“That’s not usually how I’m treated on a first date,” Jesus said quietly, next to Judas, and just like that, while the smug tone of his voice had not even rung out, Judas stopped in his tracks and shoved Jesus into the hard brick wall behind him.

“I don’t usually date people I don’t like.” Every word he spoke was emphasised, every syllable full of weight and emotion. Maybe too much so, because Jesus was looking at him like he had earlier; eyes wide, lips opened just the slightest bit. He was not fighting back against Judas.

“I must be special, then.” The words were spoken quietly, but they echoed in Judas’ mind way longer than they should.

“I wish you’d just shut up. Just for once. I don’t need your pride and your arrogance. I hate every single word that leaves your mouth and I just want you to shut the fuck up.”

He saw Jesus swallow. His voice was cracking when he said:

“Make me.”

Judas surged forward, closing the final distance between them. Their lips slotted together and Judas opened his.

He bit down on Jesus’ bottom lip, the responding moan making his knees go weak. He brought one hand up to grip Jesus’ hair and tug, angling his face to give Judas better access as he licked into Jesus’ mouth.

This had not been the plan, supplied Judas’ brain helpfully.

He pulled back abruptly.

“Fuck.”

Jesus remained silent, but when Judas looked at him, Jesus  returned the glance with half-lidded eyes, tongue darting out over his lip.

Judas resisted the urge to lean back in and finish what he had started; devour all of Jesus, make him _his_ , make him see that there was more to Judas than he knew. But he turned around. He took off, almost running, knowing full well that he was going to see Jesus mere days later.

But that was a matter for another time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw, I am here with chapter 2 which will be what finally gets me across the 100.000 mark for JCS fics alone!! Hooray!

Judas spent the weekend eating and sleeping. He did nothing else, he could not concentrate on anything, except hours and hours of regret over his biggest mistake.

He should not have kissed Jesus. He should not have let it come that far. Now, he did not only have to deal with how obnoxiously perfect Jesus was, but he also could not shake the memory of his lips, pliant under his own, parting; a deep kiss Judas never wanted to break.

But he had. And he had run. And now he had to deal with that.

Judas’ anxiety was through the roof on the way to class on Monday morning. Rationally, he knew he could just ignore Jesus. He had done so for long enough already, but Judas’ rational brain did not seem to be the driving force in his life at the moment.

Judas sat down at the back of the room, putting his head into his hands, and waited. He was one of the first people there, because he had not stopped to get a coffee beforehand. He was regretting that decision now, because he was about to fall asleep right there and then.

People started coming in, filling up the room. One by one, Judas watched them, both in terrible dread and in an entirely unsolicited anticipation. He had no plan of action for when he would see Jesus, except not to stare.

As was to be expected, Judas failed miserably. The second Jesus stepped through the door, Judas’ eyes were glued to him.

Jesus was wearing tight leather trousers, almost too tight to be entirely decent to wear to class, his shirt, unbuttoned enough to show his collar bones, his hair was falling over his shoulders, slightly curled into bouncy waves and as Jesus turned, eyes locking with Judas’, the latter forgot how to breathe at the sight of the black rim of eyeliner, gently winged at the outer corner.

He was so fucked. In the worst possible way.

The class was terrible. Judas did not pay attention to a single sentence the lecturer sad; his eyes were glued to the back of Jesus’ head.

Judas had never left a classroom faster.

He did not go to lunch.

_can’t today, gotta go to the library_ , he texted his friends.

He did not go to the library; instead he got some take away pasta and went home. He could not even be bothered to make pasta himself.

He threw himself into coursework he had been putting off.

It worked. For the next couple of days, he managed to throw himself into his work with such determination, that he almost managed to forget about Jesus.

Almost was the important word there, because every night was spent in a vehement fight against his memories and fantasies.

Then, Judas saw him again and it felt like all the efforts of the previous days had been for nothing. Jesus looked absolutely delicious. His outfit, posture, his makeup and the way he projected his voice to ring across the hallway, all screamed _slam me into a wall and kiss me senseless_.

Well, Judas was not sure if it was the appearance or the fact, that Jesus was looking at him again, smirking, paired with Judas’ irrational longing to be close to him.

Their next class together was nearly intolerable. Jesus’ active participation made it impossible for Judas to pretend like he was not there. Quick glances over his shoulder from underneath beautifully winged eyeliner, quick flashes of his tongue as Jesus licked his lips, drove Judas wild, but he endured it. After all, he had brought this shit-show upon himself. He wanted to rush out as soon as the class finished, but he was held back by a hand on his shoulder.

Judas turned and promptly his brain stopped working.

“Talk to me,” Jesus said.

“About what?” Judas snapped. He shrugged Jesus’ hand off, which he regretted that very second, because he craved Jesus’ touch, he needed more of it. But he stood his ground, resisted the urge to reach out to... do what? There was nothing he could do without coming across as incredibly creepy.

“Just... talk. Anything and everything. I wanna know more about the person who kissed me into next week,” he grinned “and then left. Like I slapped him. Which I didn’t, last time I checked.”

Judas raised an eyebrow. Why would Jesus want to get to know him?

“Why?” he asked. Jesus frowned.

“You really wanna know?” He looked around. Judas followed his example; the room was empty, save for the lecturer, who was eyeing the two of them nervously. Judas turned to leave the room. The poor woman would want to lock up behind them. She did not have to listen to Jesus any longer outside of her class.

“I mean...,” Jesus continued, obnoxiously as ever, “you really don’t know?”

Judas rolled his eyes.

“Just say it, dude.”

Jesus hesitated a moment. When Judas looked at him, he shook his head and spoke.

“I like you. I _really_ like you. You’re so fucking handsome and clever and I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m just...”

he stopped, looked straight ahead, while Judas kept staring at him.

“I’m not sure why you hate me.”

Something inside Judas shifted in that moment. His first instinct was to tell Jesus he did not hate him, the second thing he wanted to do was apologise.

He did neither. Instead, he remained quiet. After a moment, the silence became awkward. Jesus’ last sentence had clearly needed a reply.

“Me neither.”

Jesus looked back at him with a sad smile.

“Okay,” he sighed. He had not had the worst of times talking to Jesus over dinner. “I’ll talk to you.”

“It’s a date,” Jesus shot back immediately and Judas was almost regretting his decision already, but Jesus’ smile was soft, genuine.

When they stepped out of the building and had to head in different directions, Jesus held him back once more. His fingers brushed against Judas’ hand ever so slightly.

“Goodbye kiss?” he said, his voice not as steady anymore.

Judas took a deep breath, contemplating just walking away. But Jesus was so close, his eyes wide, honest, his lips so inviting, and he had _asked_ for it.

Judas leaned in and Jesus met him halfway, bringing up his hand, fingertips ghosting over Judas’ cheek, as their lips moved against each other.

When they pulled apart, Jesus’ fingers lingered for a split second, before he smiled, blindingly, beautifully, turned and left Judas staring after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is softer. God only knows what I'll come up with tomorrow


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not betaed sorry

They were going to meet in a small coffee shop, Judas had recommended.

Saying he was nervous would have been the biggest understatement of the century. By the time he opened the door to the shop, he was basically shaking with nerves, fiddling with his key in the pocket of his jacket just to distract himself at least a bit.

Jesus was already sitting in one of the booths, smiling when his eyes met Judas’.

He wanted to turn around and run, but he had done that before and he did not want to hurt Jesus. As much as he was still annoyed by him, his opinion had completely reversed. Parts of that might come from his attraction, but Judas could not deny that he had feelings for Jesus.

He sat down opposite of him, forcing himself to smile.

“Hey,” Jesus said.

“Hi,” Judas replied. As Jesus reached across the table to grasp his hand, he felt the tension draining from him within seconds. He was going to be alright.

\---

Jesus was addictive. Judas saw now, why he had as many friends as he did. The man had a unique kind of magnetism and he knew how to use it to get attention. From the right kind of people.

Apparently Judas was one of them. They had become close since their meeting... since their date, and Jesus had not held himself back in the least. He was open about what he wanted from Judas and their hesitantly forming relationship. He was not keeping anything from Judas, talked about his life and his future as freely as he did about his feelings.

Judas was different. He could not make himself vulnerable that easily. His trust had to build. He had spent too long despising Jesus and the distrust that came with that did not just vanish overnight, aided by a few kisses.

Reflecting back on it, Judas began to see why Jesus had given him the wrong impression. he was an intense person. More intense when he was in public, than in private, because he wanted to capture more people’s attention. By any means necessary. He had certainly had Judas’ attention, only in a completely wrong way. The other thing Judas realised now was that Jesus was not arrogant. Not really. He was just self-conscious about his knowledge and his moral compass. And again Judas’ thoughts came back to this intensity, here. How it shaped Jesus and how it began to shape him.

His friends were sceptical about Judas’ apparent infatuation. He had not held back his anger before, every lunch they shared after one of Judas’ classes with Jesus had been a torture for them. So this change in attitude seemed really quite off to them. Not without reason, of course. Judas realised how weird it had to look, but he could do nothing about it, despite admitting he had been wrong.

Holding Jesus’ hand in public was an experience for itself. Jesus was well known; he worked with what felt like every lecturer, had connections to student charities and groups, as well as single students.

“I helped her with her homework once,” Jesus would whisper to Judas, as a redhead girl grinned at him and nodded in greeting.

“I proof-read his ethics paper,” as a shy seeming guy with thick-rimmed glasses smiled awkwardly and said ‘hi’.

And so it went on. It was noticeable already, when they were just walking together, but the first time Jesus took Judas’ hand after a class, entwining their fingers, everything amplified. Every single person seemed to be staring at them; Judas wanted to run and hide. He hated this attention. But Jesus was rubbing circles into his skin, squeezing his hand softly, and leaned in close.

“You’re okay, darling. Don’t worry about them.”

Judas relaxed a bit after that, but the stares did not stop.

The stares did not stop even after weeks, but Judas learned to ignore them. His life got back into a sort of balance after being completely ripped out of its angles by Jesus. Now this balance included him, and sometimes Judas worried what would happen when Jesus was taken out of the equation. When he was going to leave. Judas was sure that day would come; their relationship was too passionate, too turbulent and burning hot to last for long. They were bound to burn each other down eventually but for the time being Judas was willing to accept it as the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Jesus was incredible. As confident as he was in public, as much dominance he carried in conversations, just as much did he pull back in private and let Judas take the lead. It was good; the balance between those two sides of Jesus kept Judas on his toes. Nothing about Jesus ever seemed to get boring.

Every time they kissed was just as exhilarating as the first time, every touch equally electrifying.

Judas found out many things about Jesus; like that he would melt into Judas’ touch when he gripped his waist to pull him into a kiss, like how easy it was to get him to pant out choked moans or utter curses Judas would not have expected to hear from Jesus. Like how Jesus would put himself completely at Judas’ mercy, his entire being, heart and soul, concentrated on Judas.

Intensity, Judas thought again, as Jesus writhed beneath him, gasping with pleasure.

Intensity, as Jesus’ eyes met his and within them, Judas saw love, passion, absolute devotion.

Intensity, Judas thought - and felt - as they came undone together, lost within each other, their touches hotter than fire, branding each other.

“I love you,” Judas mumbled when Jesus rested his head on his chest, eyes closed in blissful contentment.

“And I love you.” His voice was steady and secure, like he was uttering some unalienable truth.

And maybe he was; Judas believed him without hesitation. He would continue to believe him forever and as he ran his fingers through Jesus’ hair, for the first time, he dared to hope for a forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo bitches I hope uhhhhhhh you liked it pls gimme love

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a poor niche fandom writer some comments and kudos <3


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